her
office, winking at her as she hurried to finish. Hazel-brown fur with one
eyelid closed, he was her newest baby.
Like any mother, she only wanted to spend time with her
child.
* * * * *
“I’m very sorry, but Wish Bear has a waiting list.”
Granger resisted the urge to narrow his eyes at the woman.
The tiny reception area lacked polish and style. The woman’s desk looked like a
garage-sale bargain table, while she stood wearing a blouse that belonged in a
donation bin. But it was the ten feet of carpet, laid out on the concrete, that
really amused him. There wasn’t a wall between the reception area and the
plant. Noise filled the air, as fifteen feet behind the shabby desk was the
production line in full swing. Boxes with the coveted animal were piled up a
mere thirty feet away, taunting him with the possibility of success.
“Clearly you can assist me with this purchase.” Pulling out
his checkbook, he clicked his pen. “I’d be happy to pay whatever you like for
the bear.”
“We don’t jump anyone to the front of the line. Integrity is
an essential component to us here. When our customers are told they are next in
line, they are.”
Granger turned to face his newest adversary. He viewed her
in that light because all five-feet three-inches of her was standing between
him and his mother’s gift. Strawberry ponytails flipped back over her shoulders
as she glared at him.
“It’s company policy. No line cutting.”
Whoever he was, Roslyn decided that fate had already been
way too kind to him. The man was drool-worthy. As pathetic as it was, she
wanted to pant over his towering height and well-sculpted shoulders. His lips
moved into a smile meant to disarm her of any reasonable sense and it made her
mad. Sure, he was magnificent, but she did have a spine. It was grossly unfair
that fate had made him so distracting to the feminine population. He probably
wanted the bear for some exotic, size-two blonde who would add it to her trophy
collection of expensive and hard-to-get gifts. Men like him always had
centerfold-type girlfriends; another strike against fate.
“I’m sure an additional zero added to the total will change
your mind.” He glanced around Terry’s desk with disdain. “This place could sure
use it.” He placed his pen to the surface of his check and began filling it
out.
Her temper was a curse, but it flared up and she honestly
wasn’t interested in fighting it. Not on behalf of this presumptuous clod.
Roslyn felt her blood simmer. Maybe she didn’t rate a hunk
like this for her own looks, but there was no way she was going to be bought
off because he thought her business was lacking shine. The doors were open and
it had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to do that in the past year.
Maybe it was an ugly duckling, but she was going to watch it grow into a swan
with a little time and patience.
“Everything in this plant functions quite well.” Her voice
dripped venom and she flatly didn’t care. “I don’t want your money. Leave.”
It was not the brightest move she’d ever made, for certain.
They could use the money. She should have taken the check and given him a bear,
but her pride just wouldn’t let her.
Six feet of solid packed muscle, neatly packaged in a
smartly tailored suit, glared at her as her words sank in.
“You’re kidding.” Surprise flickered across his eyes before
his lips twitched up, making her temper rise once more. Now she was amusing
him. She upgraded him from clod to ass.
“I assure you, I’m not.”
He rolled his shoulders and her attention moved to the fine
wool covering his frame. All the little details were there to tell her that the
business attire wasn’t off the rack. Nope, the jacket fit his ultra-wide
shoulders to perfection and tapered delightfully over his abs to his lean waist
and flowed over his hips.
His hazel eyes caught her looking over his length, one dark
eyebrow rose in response. The presumption renewed her
office, winking at her as she hurried to finish. Hazel-brown fur with one
eyelid closed, he was her newest baby.
Like any mother, she only wanted to spend time with her
child.
* * * * *
“I’m very sorry, but Wish Bear has a waiting list.”
Granger resisted the urge to narrow his eyes at the woman.
The tiny reception area lacked polish and style. The woman’s desk looked like a
garage-sale bargain table, while she stood wearing a blouse that belonged in a
donation bin. But it was the ten feet of carpet, laid out on the concrete, that
really amused him. There wasn’t a wall between the reception area and the
plant. Noise filled the air, as fifteen feet behind the shabby desk was the
production line in full swing. Boxes with the coveted animal were piled up a
mere thirty feet away, taunting him with the possibility of success.
“Clearly you can assist me with this purchase.” Pulling out
his checkbook, he clicked his pen. “I’d be happy to pay whatever you like for
the bear.”
“We don’t jump anyone to the front of the line. Integrity is
an essential component to us here. When our customers are told they are next in
line, they are.”
Granger turned to face his newest adversary. He viewed her
in that light because all five-feet three-inches of her was standing between
him and his mother’s gift. Strawberry ponytails flipped back over her shoulders
as she glared at him.
“It’s company policy. No line cutting.”
Whoever he was, Roslyn decided that fate had already been
way too kind to him. The man was drool-worthy. As pathetic as it was, she
wanted to pant over his towering height and well-sculpted shoulders. His lips
moved into a smile meant to disarm her of any reasonable sense and it made her
mad. Sure, he was magnificent, but she did have a spine. It was grossly unfair
that fate had made him so distracting to the feminine population. He probably
wanted the bear for some exotic, size-two blonde who would add it to her trophy
collection of expensive and hard-to-get gifts. Men like him always had
centerfold-type girlfriends; another strike against fate.
“I’m sure an additional zero added to the total will change
your mind.” He glanced around Terry’s desk with disdain. “This place could sure
use it.” He placed his pen to the surface of his check and began filling it
out.
Her temper was a curse, but it flared up and she honestly
wasn’t interested in fighting it. Not on behalf of this presumptuous clod.
Roslyn felt her blood simmer. Maybe she didn’t rate a hunk
like this for her own looks, but there was no way she was going to be bought
off because he thought her business was lacking shine. The doors were open and
it had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to do that in the past year.
Maybe it was an ugly duckling, but she was going to watch it grow into a swan
with a little time and patience.
“Everything in this plant functions quite well.” Her voice
dripped venom and she flatly didn’t care. “I don’t want your money. Leave.”
It was not the brightest move she’d ever made, for certain.
They could use the money. She should have taken the check and given him a bear,
but her pride just wouldn’t let her.
Six feet of solid packed muscle, neatly packaged in a
smartly tailored suit, glared at her as her words sank in.
“You’re kidding.” Surprise flickered across his eyes before
his lips twitched up, making her temper rise once more. Now she was amusing
him. She upgraded him from clod to ass.
“I assure you, I’m not.”
He rolled his shoulders and her attention moved to the fine
wool covering his frame. All the little details were there to tell her that the
business attire wasn’t off the rack. Nope, the jacket fit his ultra-wide
shoulders to perfection and tapered delightfully over his abs to his lean waist
and flowed over his hips.
His hazel eyes caught her looking over his length, one dark
eyebrow rose in response. The presumption renewed her
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